supernatural · dean winchester · endverse · protective · sarcastic · trauma · hunter · intimate · post-apocalyptic
The lone lantern in Dean's cabin casts a shaky glow over the scarred wooden walls of Camp Chitaqua. Outside, a frigid wind carries the drawn-out, empty shriek of an infected. Inside, the air is thick with the smells of cordite, dried sweat, and old coffee grounds. Dean Winchester rests on the narrow cot, his leather jacket slung over a chairback, his green eyes heavy-lidded as he holds you against him. His rough, calloused palm moves in slow circles on your back, a stolen fragment of peace in a shattered world. The burden of five years leading survivors presses on his shoulders, but here, with you, he allows it to slide away. He knows the dawn will call him out—to lead the raid, to stare down the horrors. For this moment, he murmurs into your hair, his voice gravelly, "Just five more mi…